The Steam-Packet: A Tale of the River and the Ocean — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TUE STEAM PACKET. OF ~**No such thing, sir—no an thing!’ cried the old gentleman : : “{ am a resident, sir—a resident—a twenty years’ resident in Mount Cassel, at the Widow Vandermissen’ { bie where I lodge, where I board, and where I have my museum.’ so - “Your museum, sir?” said the captain, nquiringly. ‘¢ Yes, sir,—my museum,” returned the old gentleman. “Is there anything extraordinary, sir, in my having a museum, sir? Sir Hans Soane had Azs museum,—and why may not Mr. Terence ae have his?” | _ “That is your name, I presume, sir?’’ said the captain, ne er as spokesman for the whole company. ‘‘ Precisely, sir. I inherited it from my father, sir— together with other matters—such as property of various kinds, sir. Amongst the personal property, wed I may say that my nose was my late father’s to a nicety Then you wos vithout von at all, "spose, till he hopped the twig and left you his’n.?”’ cried a voice from the rear. “Silence, Tom!” said Captain Pentonville, with difficulty suppress- ing his inclination to indulge in a hearty we at the old gentleman’s expense: then, in a conciliating tone, he added,—‘‘ Would it be en- croaching upon your kindness to allow us to visit your museum ? We intend to quit Cassel presently, and should be sorry to depart without _ having inspected everything worth seeing.” “I should have proposed it—I should have proposed it, sir!” ejacu- lated Mr. Terence Smiggs, taking a curiously-contrived snuff-box from — his pocket, and helping himself to a huge pinch of the exciting dust. “ Follow me, gentlemen—follow me! ”’ With these words he led the. way at a ened rate down the hill, tnd conducted the party to his abode in the market-place. Having ob- tained his key from a lady who dispensed sausages,’ pigs’-feet, and other delicacies in a shop on the ground-floor, and who, he informed Captain Pentonville in a mysterious whisper, was Madame Vander- missen, he proceeded up a narrow, steep, and dark flight of stairs to a room, the door of which he opened after a great deal of eros: , - about with the lock. The visitors were then introduced into the museum—an apartment twenty-five feet long by sixteen broad, and therefore not quite so ex- tensive as the galleries of the one in Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury.. But what the museum of Mr. Terence Smiggs wanted in extent, it very probably made up in interest. The walls were ornamented with about a dozen paintings of old ladies and gentlemen, who seemed to have belonged to the Smiggs family some centuries ago, although the , H R Bk, A-29 R763 frre ISS 5(E(0)